


i like your dog, but i think i like your face more (go out with me maybe?)

by cat_in_my_hat



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And failed attempt at humour, Angst? IDK, Can I warn for Gokudera's potty mouth?, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Puppies, Shameless exploitation of Gokudera's bad naming sense, Shameless use of brackets, This got away from me, everyone likes Gokudera's dog except Gokudera, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_in_my_hat/pseuds/cat_in_my_hat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera doesn't know if the dog is just stupid or if it purposely does the opposite of everything he says just to shit him. His patience is being pushed. To be fair, he really didn't have much of it in the first place. </p><p>Or the one in which Gokudera's dog is better at picking up guys than Gokudera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i like your dog, but i think i like your face more (go out with me maybe?)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a ball of 8059 fluff but it turned into a Gokudera-character study without me knowing it lol. PLS ENJOY! Oh, and the second half really hasn't been edited, so any tense changes or grammar mistakes will be fixed later, I just really wanted to get this out. Also, I speak Australian English, so if any spelling is weird, just leave it, it's probs how I spell down here :)  
> PS. I don't actually have a clue how old they're supposed to be '^^ early twenties maybe haha!

Gokudera Hayato is uncomfortable. 

“Ah! What about this one, Gokudera-san?” Tsuna laughs while cuddling with four-legged, flea-ridden mutts. There are a thousands of them (an exaggeration – only like, six or seven, but Gokudera is a drama queen and goddammit dogs smell like off soap) surrounding his small friend (his tenth friend, but nonetheless his most favourite), and licking his face and contaminating Tsuna’s pure skin with who-knows-what. 

And Gokudera is going to leave this god-forsaken pet store with one of the smelly, messy and all round gross creatures (known to the majority as dogs). Why? Because Tsuna asked, and Gokudera can’t say no the wide-eyed, pleading look the tenth gets when he’s concerned about him (but that doesn’t mean Gokudera goes down without screaming and clawing and making everyone bar Tsuna know that he’s miserable. It was this way of acting that inevitably got him into this situation, but Gokudera refuses to make that connection).

“This one’s really cute. I might just have to get one myself,” Tsuna coos while patting a black Golden Retriever behind the ears. Gokudera bits back remarking about Tsuna’s past fear of Chihuahua’s and nods in faux engagement. To be completely honest with himself, he is eyeing off what appears to be the runt of the litter who is dark brown in colour with a smattering of gold through his fluffy fur (it is shaking and looks like it was listen to his every command out of fear. That’s what he wants in a dog), but if Tsuna thinks that the energetic black pup is the one to go for, then so be it. 

“I’ll take it then,” he says, fingers itching towards his pockets to dig out another cigarette, but he knows how much Tsuna hates his bad habit, so he refrains himself.  
“Really?! I thought you’d go for the quietest one!” Tsuna looks happy and stands.

“You told me that I needed something lively in my life, and a quiet dog isn’t going to do that very well, now is it?” Gokudera lies, something he rarely does to Tsuna, but to be completely honest, the birds in the room over are fucking loud, Gokudera wants nothing more than to go home and wash off all traces of guinea pig smell off of his favourite suit and then collapse into bed and not move for the next ten hours or so. Plus, if Tsuna knew that he was buying the black, energetic little puppy because it made Tsuna happy, Tsuna wouldn’t be happy (the irony isn’t lost on him). 

Gokudera watches as Tsuna politely points out which mutt he wants (Tsuna doesn’t trust Gokudera not to snap at the kind girl who serves them). Gokudera sends out a wistful look at the small, shaking, runt-of-the-litter puppy as the girl (whose name tag read Haru and was surrounded by a bunch of obnoxious flowers and hearts and other things that makes Gokudera not like her instantly) reaches into the pen and picks up the black ball of wiggling-energy and places it softly into a pet-carrier. 

“Are you a first time owner?” The girl is overly bright and bubbly, and Gokudera really gets the shits at that way she bats her eyelashes in Tsuna’s direction. It’s not that he’s jealous (come on, Tsuna’s boyfriend is scary and Gokudera, despite popular belief, does not want to die that bad), it’s just that Tsuna (and he himself) are wearing expensive suits, and are, undoubtedly, going to pay in cash and Gokudera really has no patience for gold diggers (okay, that was harsh, but Gokudera has had bad experiences with people out for money).

Tsuna seems oblivious to the attention he’s getting, and replies, “Oh, haha, yeah, Gokudera-san is. I was hoping to get all of the supplies that he needs while we’re here.”

Haru sends him a dirty look and Gokudera suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be here. He trails behind the two as they pick out all the necessities that he might need, and is happier then he should be when he collapses into his very expensive Porsche with the Tenth sitting next to him holding the pet carrier. 

** 

After ushering Tsuna of his house (his Concerned FaceTM was beginning to give him a stomach ache), Gokudera slides down the back of his door until he sits with his knees at his chest. A bark is all the warning he gets before his arms are filled with a small, black fur-ball. He complains and groans and tries to get the energetic mutt off of him as it licks his check with enthusiasm (because Gokudera has no idea where that tongue has been and it’s just gross). He grasps it between his two hands and stares at it. It stares back with its unnerving gold eyes and tongue hanging lazily out of its mouth, as though it can see into his soul and Gokudera is unreasonably paranoid. He puts the dog down, and stands. Life goes on, unnerving, soul-seeing mutt or not. 

**

Owning a dog is frustrating (to put it nicely). 

Gokudera doesn’t know if the dog is just stupid or if it purposely does the opposite of everything he says just to shit him. (His patience is being pushed. To be fair, he really didn’t have much of it in the first place). 

He feeds it in the morning before commuting to work and comes home to see dog food on his nice, clean tiles and nearly throws the goddamn mutt out the window (he refrains; animal cruelty isn’t something he wants to add to his list of faults). He used to have these nice plush pillows on his leather sofa that Tsuna (and Hibari, but Gokudera knows that it was Tsuna’s gift with both their names on it) gave him for Christmas one year that he found in pieces all over his house, along with his favourite pair of boxer-briefs (he wishes he was joking; he wasn’t. Trying to explain how your leopard-print boxers got stuck down your toilet drain to the plumber was awkward and an experience Gokudera doesn’t want to repeat). 

All of these experiences, however, pale in comparison to toilet training. 

Gokudera doesn’t understand why it feels the need to leave him ‘gifts’ right in front of the door, but when it does, Gokudera is really, really grateful that his guns are held in his study and not handy at the exact moment he realises what the squidgy feeling between his toes is. Ew. (It’s in these moments that he thinks adding animal cruelty to his list of faults really isn’t too bad. Really).

“I don’t fucking understand what I’m doing wrong!” Gokudera hits his head against his desk in frustration while Ryohei thinks about his predicament thoughtfully. He doesn’t know why he’s complaining to Lawn Head of all people, but he was there, Tsuna wasn’t and Gokudera was fucking frustrated.

“Then maybe you should start walking it to the EXTREME!” Gokudera long ago stopped asking why Tsuna hired Ryohei. Tsuna has a penchant for hiring weirdos at his company (one only had to look at the science department – nobody claims that the head scientists, Verde and Mukuro are normal, but most agree that them and their team of subordinates are bordering on psychotic) (Gokudera doesn’t want to know what that says about himself – he refuses to be grouped with his freaky colleagues) and Ryohei is one of the normal ones. Aside from his love for everything EXTREME (including the words itself). 

It’s then that Tsuna walks into the room with Hibari appearing at his side. He is speaking about the new employee on security – Gokudera isn’t really paying attention, with his head against his desk, he looks like the poster-child for exhausted young adults everywhere. 

“Ah! Gokudera, Brother, would it be too much of me to ask you to get a report from the science department? I was supposed to get it now, but I ran into Hibari and....hahaha....” Gokudera is happy he doesn’t finish his sentence, if Tsuna’s blush and Hibari smug smirk are anything to go off. 

“We will get it, to the EXTREME!”

Gokudera knows it’s going to be a long day. 

**

Gokudera takes Ryohei’s advice (surprisingly – he is desperate) and wrestles the dog into a lead. The local park is only a few blocks away from Gokudera’s apartment, and he cannot be more grateful for this fact. He can’t really figure out who is leading who – his arm feels like it’s about to detach and the dog doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon. Gokudera is undeniably the happiest he has been today when the local park comes into view, and the dog stops at the entrance with Gokudera in tow. He looks at the dark Retriever and takes in the gleaming gold eyes that watch him, seemingly innocent gaze sending waves of paranoia up Gokudera’s spine. 

He looks away. 

(It isn’t a defeat though; Gokudera will not let victory fall into the hands of a dog.)

The park is like any other – the trees are tall and far in between, and Gokudera applauds the gardener; the landscape is green, greener than Gokudera’s eyes, and there is not a brown patch in sight. The sign at the entrance introduces it – Namimori City Park, followed but a list of do’s and don’ts. Undeniable comfort rushes through his veins when he realises that he is not the only who showed up with a dog, as he watches couples gallivanting about with dogs chasing after them(he is disturbed by the realisation, however, that there are more couples here than individuals like himself. He’s not jealous. Really.) He is wrenched from his observation when his dog tugs its leash from his grip and takes off into the greenery. 

Gokudera swears he sees it look over its shoulder at him. Its expression is smug.

“Little shit!” Gokudera runs after it, cursing in three different languages as it fails to understand that Gokudera doesn’t exercise. “Stop!”

He begins to realise that smokers-lungs don’t make running after a puppy any easier of a task, and he is puffing and panting only a minutes to their movie-worthy-epic chase (he swears, this only happens in movies – the ninja moves that he pulled while trying to a avoid a pram should have been caught on tape. It was seriously cool). The dog is taking every extreme route that made life hard(er) for him, and his mood is soon resembling that of an old-man who is stuck inside for the rest of his life – grumpy, rude, and irritable (not a good combination for a guy who likes explosives – Gokudera is not just a pyromaniac. He is a trained one.)(At this line of thought, he begins to think about what type of explosive would do the most damage to the flea-bag he is chasing.)(He also begins to realise why Tsuna hired him.)(He is ashamed).

Ahem.

He is puffing and panting when he realises that he has approached a wide field at the back of the park that is surrounded by trees on three sides, and a little concrete park way leading through the middle of it. His dog, he observes, is running to a tall male figure who is, too, poised with a caramel coloured dog, arm raised high in the air, and, as Gokudera realises what is happening a moment too late, the man lets the ball sail with a practiced ease, with Gokudera’s god-forsaken mutt is taking off even faster after the flying object. 

Now, Gokudera must communicate with another of the human species.

Ew. 

“Oh, haha! Jiro, it looks like you have some competition!” the stranger says, and Gokudera feels unreasonably irritable all of a sudden.

“Pesky fucking mutt, I’ll skin it alive.....” Gokudera is muttering under his breath as he comes to stand beside the tall man, who is laughing in an overly-obnoxious manner that makes Gokudera want to hit him. “Oi! Get back here!”

The man with the obnoxious laugh asks, “Oh, is it your dog? What’s his name?” 

Gokudera che’s, avoiding all eye-contact with the other man, “It doesn’t have one.”

The other man laughs (again, how much must his face hurt from all that smiling? Gokudera doesn’t want to find out), “How tragic! Mine’s Jiro, he’s an Akita-Inu. Oh! It looks like your dog won that match, ahaha!” 

“Maybe it’s just that your dog is fat,” Gokudera’s mouth lacks a filter, as he has been told many times, but in this situation, he fails to really care. He is too busy watching as his dog prances back to him with a baseball clutched victoriously between its teeth. He hopes it feels the weight of his gaze on it as it approaches him. From the way it sets the ball down at Gokudera’s feet makes him think his gaze isn’t as heavy as it used to be (which is absurd – the new guy at work today seemed pretty scared shitless when Gokudera barked at him to get some coffee – maybe the little shit is immune. Gokudera doesn’t entertain the thought). 

The guy laughs – and Gokudera’s patience snaps. He turns up with his best pissy-drama-queen rant on his lips, but his mouth falls open without a noise as his gaze take in the five-foot-nine drop dead gorgeous man that is in front of him. (Gokudera is suddenly self-conscious about his appearance – sweat pants and an old university tee-shirt that probably has holes isn’t the most flattering thing in the world. And he chose today to wear his glasses, holy shit, past Gokudera, why?). He is sure that he looks stupid, with his UGG boots and little pony tail, mouth poised to catch flies and eyes wide.

“I’m Yamamoto Takeshi – I just moved here, so I don’t know anyone Hahaha,” The man – Yamamoto – grins boyishly in Gokudera’s direction, and he nearly melts because my god his eyes, and his smile.

Gokudera wants to call for a cleanup on isle there-is-a-hot-man-right-here-whose-entire-face-should-be-illegal. 

Ahem.

“Ah-Gokudera Hayato,” he is definitely relieved when he doesn’t stutter his words, and he bows politely (politely? This man has done something to him) in the other’s direction.  
The other man laughs – it’s not annoying anymore. Really. “Do you come here regularly? “

Oh, I do now, Gokudera thinks. 

**

He smiles a lot at work the next day. (Tsuna is creeped out. But happy. He thinks.)

**

Gokudera didn’t have a nice childhood. 

His mother was a drug addict – Gokudera didn’t see her often, and she died just after his ninth birthday on an overdose of sleeping pills. He was heartbroken – he loved it when his mother would visit, and they would sit and play on the piano together until the sun had set low in the sky, and the room was covered in an orange glow. His father didn’t let him go to her funeral, and to this day, he still doesn’t know where she was laid to rest. He has a feeling he never will. 

He hates his father, who wanted him to become CEO of their multi-million dollar software company, who locked him in his room if his grades fell too much, or if he got into a fight (which happened far, far too often). Who made him endure his sister’s torment for the sake of a good recital. Gokudera had to be a genius, a prodigy, or he would get the belt, or be ignored until he could do better, or be the best. 

He hasn’t talked to his father since he ran away in the sixth grade.

Things didn’t get better for Gokudera, who had ran away to Japan, just live off the streets, until he met Tsuna Sawada when he was fourteen. 

(He relents; the circumstances in which him and the tenth become friends is shameful – he was trying to mug little defenceless Tsuna, who extended his hand to the street rat that was fourteen year old Gokudera. It was in that moment that Gokudera vowed to follow the tenth anywhere.)

His life gets better; he wins a scholarship to the local high school where Tsuna attends, and gets help from the school’s administration that gives money grants to honours students and families in tough situations. He rented a small apartment, and graduated high school at the top of the prefecture, and goes to university (the one Tsuna goes to – duh) and Tsuna takes over a large corporation, as the tenth CEO of Vongola Tech., with Gokudera sitting at his right hand. He gets a bigger apartment, and then he meets Gamma. Life takes a downhill turn – Gamma ruins him.

**

He meets with Yamamoto the next day (Gokudera swears up and down it is a coincidence. No one believes him). He learns a little bit about the black haired male – about how he moved from Tokyo where he attended university on a baseball scholarship to accept a job at a company firm – the name of which isn’t bought up, much to Gokudera’s dissatisfaction.

He also finds that he speaks about himself – something that puzzles him. He never talks about his past, rarely even to Tsuna. There is something compelling about Yamamoto’s open honesty that urges Gokudera to spill all the secrets locked up in his scarred heart. (He doesn’t want to think about what Yamamoto would do if Gokudera told him what he sometimes thinks about at night when no one is there to comfort him.) (He begins to realise that he has too many things he doesn’t want to think about.)(He promptly stops thinking.)

He really begins to enjoy the way Yamamoto looks at him – he thinks his sort-of-maybe (definite) attraction isn’t one-sided. 

They agree to meet up the next day, and his heart is light as he walks towards his house with his dog’s leash in hand. He is all but skipping. He hopes, behind all other reasoning that Yamamoto becomes a constant in his hectic life. He is somewhat like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise busy world, the sun in Gokudera’s dark solar system. 

Gokudera is undeniably addicted to it.

** 

“What are you going to name him?” 

They sit in the open plan of the park, and Gokudera watches as Yamamoto wrestles with his puppy and Jiro happily, natural laughter falling from his lips. Gokudera shrugs, “I dunno. Haven’t thought about it that much,” he blushes, “I haven’t got the greatest naming sense. I had a cat and named it Uri once. I will never live it down.”

Yamamoto laughs, loud and clear, “Uri is a cute name. Besides, whatever you call him, he’ll come to it. This little guy loves you,” he ruffs behind the retriever’s ears with a goofy grin that Gokudera has come to love. His blush becomes more prominent around his ears as he che’s and says something scathing in reply. 

They stay like this until the sun is almost devoured by the horizon, and Gokudera begins to stand. “I should go home,” he says, despite his head telling him to grab hold of Yamamoto’s vest and kiss him. He shoves away his instinct, and pulls his retriever by his leash, straightening out any kinks in his back. 

“Yeah, ahaha! It’s a little late, isn’t it?” Yamamoto stands too and Jiro sits at his feet, tail wagging merrily. Gokudera begins to reply, when a loud bang sounds off, and the appearance of fireworks is made known along the sunset. 

Their dogs go psychotic. 

Jiro jumps, and pushes Yamamoto down in his haste; Gokudera is flattened on his back as the mutt tries to take off at full speed. By some unknown twist of fate, incredible things occur in that moment – Yamamoto lands on top of Gokudera and they are pressed chest-to-chest on the ground (the other incredible thing is that Gokudera’s hold on the leash remains. Either his upper body strength is better, or his dog is weaker. He opts for the former).

Yamamoto’s eyes are locked on his, and the world for Gokudera exists in the space between the taller man’s forearms. Their faces are close enough for Gokudera to observe the fading acne scars on Yamamoto’s skin that are harder to see due to his darker complexion, and the swirls of lighter gold in his honey coloured eyes (eyes that bring about a strange sense of déjà vu for Gokudera. His mind is too preoccupied with the warmth radiating from Yamamoto’s fit frame to piece anything together.)

They stay like for who knows how long, hours, or minutes, or seconds, Gokudera doesn’t count. Jiro barks and Yamamoto is off him in a flash. There is a moment of awkward silence as they stare at each other. Yamamoto scratches his neck.

“Ahahaha, I wonder why there are fireworks this early?”

Gokudera brushes grass of his butt as he answers, “They’re preparing for the summer festival. Must have accidently let one go, fucking idiots gave me a fucking heart attack.”

**

“Gokudera! Are you sure you’re okay?” Tsuna waves a hand in front of Gokudera’s faces and eyes him wearily, “That’s the third time that you zoned out on me today – Hibari, stop laughing!” 

Hibari just smirks, and sits further back in sofa he rests on. Tsunayoshi’s office is a small, modern space that is decorated scarcely, with a long, black leather seat (that Hibari currently occupies), stretched on one side, and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, and a cluttered desk placed at the back of the room. A pot plant sits in the corner that surely would have died if not for Tsuna’s secretary, Kyoko. 

“Ah-sorry, tenth! Forgive me!” He bows his head low, and clenches his hands on his knees. They sit on the floor in front of Tsuna’s desk, crossed legged and facing each other over a low coffee table, like they used to in high school when trying to get Tsuna’s grades up enough to avoid supplementary classes. Gokudera can’t seem to find it within himself to focus today, mind too caught up in the way Yamamoto’s skin gleamed an enticing sun-kissed in the light of the afternoon. He curses the fact that he cannot concentrate due to the memory of Yamamoto hovering above him, gold eyes intense and focused solely on him. (Gokudera is glad he doesn’t blush; Hibari would have a field day).  
“Didn’t you get to sleep last night? We can postpone the meeting until later, if you want?”

Gokudera could kiss Tsuna at that moment, but Hibari is in the room and Gokudera has no doubt (whatsoever) that his tonfas are concealed up the sleeves of his suit jacket (in short: Gokudera likes his balls exactly where they are thank-you-very-much).

“Yeah, I’ll figure out all of the problems later. Anything you need before I leave?”

Tsuna taps his bottom lip, eyes turned up. “Um – Oh! A new person just started as head of security. I want you to meet him and show him around – you two will be meeting frequently from now on.”

Gokudera nods – the spot for Head of Security had been vacant for months now (Gokudera squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers the reason why) and Hibari had been filling in until a replacement could be found (Hibari looks ecstatic about being able to pass the title on – he was too attached to his job as head of the disciplinary sector to fully be engaged in mundane things like security.).

Gokudera glances at the clock – it showed just a little to eight in the morning (they do their meetings early to avoid the New-York-City-worthy traffic jam that is Tsuna’s schedule). “When-”

He is interrupted by the sound of Kyoko knocking on the glass door, “Tsu-kun, the new Head of Security is waiting for you in the foyer.”

Gokudera’s mouth closes as his question is answered. Tsuna bows politely and asks if she can make him some tea (please-and-thank-you) before turning to his colleague, “Well, there you go. He’s already here. Just give him a tour, and tell him what he has to do in basic terms.”

Gokudera nods, selectively deciding that he didn’t hear the purposeful emphasis put on basic terms (Gokudera is still to realise that his brain is a little bit better at processing big words than others. Simple is better, said Gokudera never). He steps out of Tsuna’s office with a farewell. Waiting outside of the glass enclosure that is the tenths workspace is Kyoko’s own – more colourful, with an assortment of pink and orange decorations purposefully placed around her unnervingly tidy desk and accompanying wall space. He steps through another door built into a see-through glass wall that is among a hall of many. Gokudera’s own desk is in the adjacent room, which he shares with Ryohei and the previous security guy (whose name will never again be muttered willingly out of Gokudera’s mouth again, unless joined with the words fuckface and dickhead.) 

The elevator ride is short (and awkward – Flan didn’t stop staring at him the entire time. That kid always creeped him out). Gokudera steps out of the enclosed space, an eerie farewell greeting his back as he walked (See: ran) briskly into the open space on the ground floor. Vongola Tech., lived in the heart of Namimori’s commercial area and was a large towering building that did, indeed, come with marble floors on the entrance way, with a large semi-circle desk of assistant secretaries that answer calls more efficiently than a telecom agency. 

“Oi,” Gokudera calls rudely to a chubby man with slicked back black hair who sits closest to him. The startles, and his expression becomes even more frightened (Gokudera enjoys the fact that the men knows him. It makes him feel good). 

“M-Mr. Gokudera! What can I do for you?!” the man stutters. 

“I’m supposed to meet the new Head of Security. Is he here?” 

“I-I’ll get him for you!”

The man scurries off, and Gokudera absentmindedly begins to wonder what Yamamoto’s favourite food is while inspecting his nails. He is in the middle of pulling off a nail that was deemed too long for his hand (his pose is attractive – thumb nail wedged in between his teeth with his eyes crossed to watch what was happening below his nose – seriously. ) when an utterly familiar laugh invades his senses. 

“Gokudera? Ahahahaha, fancy meeting you here!”

Gokudera’s thumb falls from his mouth (he hopes the other doesn’t see the drool attaching the appendage to his lips – that would be embarrassing.) as he meets the golden gaze of Yamamoto Takeshi. 

Well shit.

**

Tsuna sit next to Hibari as they share a plate of cheese and wonders why he can feel a sudden chill roll down his spine. 

Hibari leans down, and Tsuna shakes off his weird feeling. 

**

“This is our office. I’m that desk over there,” Gokudera points to the messy desk covered in papers, with dust collecting over the top of the apple computer that sits unused. He points to a surprisingly ordered desk in front of his, “That one is Ryohei – you’ll meet him soon. He coordinates physical education – do not ask why we have the equivalent of a gym teacher at a software company. You’re desk is the empty one over there. If you find anything in the draws throw it out.”

Yamamoto nods and sits himself down in the large, (rather comfy) desk chair. Gokudera watches him from the corner of his eye as he does the same, shuffling files around on his cluttered work space as he has an inner-melt down in his mind. 

Yamamoto is his workmate. Now, in most circumstances, this would not be a bad thing, but Gokudera works with freaks (remember Tsuna’s bad habit he mentioned a little while ago? Yeah, yeah), who enjoy taking the piss out of him to rile him up (Gokudera in the English language is synonymous with drama queen. Seriously, look it up), and if that happens, Yamamoto will see the real him. 

The last person who saw Gokudera for Gokudera left him with only half a heart.

Gamma ruined him.

(Plus, Gokudera is possessive; the calm he feels around Yamamoto is a treasured feeling, one he doesn’t want to share)(At all)(Especially with his colleagues)(Who are, in the words of the ever proficient youth, cray cray)

Ahem.

“Um, Gokudera? I know you said to throw everything out, but I think you might want this,” Yamamoto waves a photo in front of Gokudera’s face, whose face goes deathly pale as he observes the picture displayed in front of him. 

He wants to vomit.

Gamma ruins him.

Gokudera grabs the photo – it is one of him and Gamma, holding hands, looking happy – and shoves it in the bin. Yamamoto watches him with confusion. Gokudera’s movements are jerky, mechanical as he tells Yamamoto that it was nothing and that he should just go back to his own desk (And leave him alone to his mental breakdown).

Ryohei comes back to the office as loud as ever, and is greeted with the sight of a new co-worker (the equivalent of a Christmas present, at Vongola). They take a liking to each other, and as Gokudera tunes them out, he hears a knock at the door. 

He looks up, and takes in the sight of Kyoko walking into the room with an arm full of documents that rest just below her chin. She navigates around their desks as Gokudera asks, “What the fuck are those?”

She laughs sheepishly, “Well – you see – Lambo came in yesterday and threw a grenade at the science department. You have to fill out a few forms for the damages and costs of repairs for all the equipment destroyed.”

“A few – few? ¬ – that’s more than a fucking few! Where is that fucking stupid cow – does he know how much fucking work I have to do? This will take me hours!”

“I’m sorry! I would help you, but I have my own load to finish off!” Kyoko bows and Gokudera can’t find it in him to yell at her. 

“It’s fine,” he sighs, slouching back in chair. The cancelled meeting has put him back enough – it will take him well into the night to finish these papers, “I’ll do it when I get home –”

“I can help.”

Gokudera looks at Yamamoto as though he is crazy, “Are you crazy? You’re signing yourself up for a lot of work, baseball idiot.”

Yamamoto laughs him off, “It’s fine, really! I have nothing better to do. Plus, I could bring around Jiro, and he can play with yours! It’ll be like a doggy play date – Ahahaha!”

Gokudera doesn’t fight the idea too much, and agrees. 

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way his heart flutters as they walk out of the door together. 

**

(A few weeks ago)

“You need something to take your mind off of him. Why don’t you get a pet or a dog?” Tsuna says as brown eyes take in Gokudera’s dishevelled appearance with concern.  
Gokudera had been drinking again.

The silver haired man che’s as he turns away from the brunette. He can’t stand Tsuna’s Concerned FaceTM. He replies, “What good would a dog do me? I can’t look after myself, let alone an animal.”

Tsuna laughs, “I have faith. I know this really nice pet store in town. I’ll go down with you next week, okay?”

Gokudera doesn’t argue (shock horror, he is feeling off this week) (Is what he tells people when they ask)(Seriously, ask him).

**

Yamamoto is in his house. 

His house. 

Smiling. That goddamn smile that makes Gokudera want to melt (which he does, a little).

They sit at Gokudera’s coffee table and split the paper work between them. They work quietly, save for the scratching of pens against paper and the occasional question that Yamamoto asks. Gokudera watches him, though, and he is fascinating; the way his brow works when he is concentrating and how he pokes his tongue out and bits it softly without knowing it. Sometimes those gold eyes, so familiar, will look up and catch him – Gokudera will look away quickly and pretends he is focused on the stark white paper in front of him (he really isn’t).

When he gets up to get coffee, he makes one for Yamamoto too, and sets in front of the taller man. Gokudera has a small backyard, and their dogs yip and yap playfully in the background, and Gokudera is about to yell at them to shut it, when he is struck by the domesticity of their situation. 

He is reminded of Gamma. 

Gamma, who ruins him. 

Gokudera shakes away the feeling. Not quickly enough – Yamamoto questions the sudden doom lines that appear around Gokudera’s silver hair, “Are you okay? You look a little blue.”

Gokudera nods, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

He is apparently not a good actor, as Yamamoto questions on, “Really? You have the same look in your eyes that you did when you looked at that photo today.”

Gokudera freezes. His green eyes, once hard to pull from the tan features now want to wander away from them. The look in Yamamoto’s eyes is one that he has never observed before – Gokudera shrinks under its intensity. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, baseball-idiot.”

“Stop messing around. Who was the guy in the picture? Did he hurt you?”

Gokudera is getting angry, rather like a cornered dog, and he begins to rise into a standing position, “Why do you care? We’ve known each other for two weeks!”

“You’re my friend,” His gaze is sharp enough to send daggers through Gokudera’s insults (Read: libido), “And if you’ve been hurt, you should come to me about it. So, what did he do? Who was he to you?” Yamamoto is using his height to his advantage and towers, intimidating, over Gokudera. 

“I don’t have to tell you. What happened between me and Gamma has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes it does,” Yamamoto is walking towards him, the space between them is getting smaller and smaller, until they are pressed chest to chest. Yamamoto’s eyes soften, “Because I like you. And I can’t make a move if you like Gamma.”

Gokudera is speeches – for once – and closes his eyes. His head rests against Yamamoto collar bone. He doesn’t know if he can talk about Gamma yet – Gamma who ruined him, left him alone and broke, with a broken heart and an even more wounded ego. 

“Trust me, I don’t like fuckface Gamma,” He looks up, and almost immediately looks away – Yamamoto’s gaze is too close for him to be comfortable. “At all.”

Yamamoto laughs, and Gokudera feels it as it comes from his chest. He moves away; Yamamoto lets him go.

“There’s a festival on next week. Do you want to go?” Yamamoto asks. 

Gokudera smiles – genuine, happy. “Sure.”

**

A few months later

“Gokudera, there’s a parcel in the mail for you!” Yamamoto calls from the front door. Gokudera mumbles back around his toothbrush as he cleans them in the en suite of his (their) bathroom. He spits into the sink as he wanders out into the kitchen, weaving his way around Jiro as he barks at Yamamoto’s bird happily. His dog sits on the (their) sofa relaxed. Over the past few months, it has grown to stand at just above Gokudera’s hip and it has grown to own a place in Gokudera’s very exclusive heart. 

Gokudera comes to stand beside Yamamoto, who, for the most part, looks peaceful as he sips from his coffee cup, watching the world pass them by out their front window. “What is it?” Gokudera pokes at his taller companion’s side, and reaches at the parcel held in the hand not holding his cup of coffee. 

“I dunno,” Yamamoto says, passing it to the grabby hands of his boyfriend. 

Gokudera pulls at the cardboard, and the item it was holding falls out. “Oi, mutt. I got you something.” His dog jerks up and comes to him, tail wagging. Yamamoto stands behind him, curious. 

He fiddles with the collar for a moment, and when he pulls back, Yamamoto barks out a laugh. Gokudera laughs too, as he studies the bone-shaped identification collar on his dog’s neck. The name Ringo glares back at him, along with his and Yamamoto’s address and landline number. 

Gokudera’s heart soars.

**Author's Note:**

> Ringo means apple. I thought it was fitting.


End file.
